


Moving Day

by Covinskey



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Moving In Together, moving in drama, new apartment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-15 08:05:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4599126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Covinskey/pseuds/Covinskey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been a long day for Cecil and Carlos trying to move in together, and nothing seems to be going right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moving Day

The bed was in pieces in the bedroom, and unless Carlos was mistaken, it was in several more pieces than it had originally been in.

It had been a long day, boxes were piled everywhere, on the dresser, in the closet, all over the room. But there had been a space cleared specifically for the bed tonight, and the number of pieces had doubled, and it was impossible to tell if it was because there were extras or they had just been broken.

Carlos sighed and rubbed his eyes. He was tired, it had been a long day of packing and carrying. Cecil was either in the kitchen or the living room, looking for their toothbrushes in the boxes he had decided not to label.

This was it, it was their apartment. Their first apartment together. He wanted to pop champagne and celebrate, or, he wanted to want that. Right now, he wanted to assemble the bed frame and crash.

“Cecil?” he called, walking back into the living room. “Ceec I think we have a problem.”

“Hmm? Carlos, I think you’re right…”

“What is it?”

Cecil walked out of the kitchen, holding a box. “Carlos, I think this was our plates.”

Carlos peeked under the lid and instantly slammed it back down. “Well, I guess it’s not plates anymore!”

“It’s my fault,” Cecil said miserably, “I thought I had sprayed the repellant for porcelain-eating spiders.

“No, no, it’s mine, I should have checked the truck for an infestation sooner. Those movers were suspicious, or at least more suspicious than they had any right to be.”

Cecil set the box down on the counter with a sigh. Carlos took him in his arms and rested his head on his shoulder.

“I think something messed with our bedframe,” he told Cecil, his voice slightly muffled.

“There’s a slime mold trying to sing Queen songs in our bathtub,” Cecil replied, “I think it ate our toothbrushes.”

“There might be a portal to another dimension in our closet.”

“The cupboard under the sink won’t open without a blood sacrifice.”

“The rug is getting fidgety on this new floor.”

“The air conditioner squeaks.”

“I can’t find my socks.”

“But it’s home,” Cecil reminded both Carlos and himself.

Carlos kissed him on the temple. “You’re right. It’s our home. It’s our bedframe, our closet, our shower and rug and cupboard and slime mold but I think the slime mold might own itself.”

Cecil clung to him, humming a little at the kiss. “We made it,” he said, “We made it so far and through so much struggle and we made it.”

“We did,” Carlos agreed, and he could feel his heart swell as if to a crescendo in music while he listened to Cecil speak. But when silence fell, he was reminded of one unavoidable fact…

“Cecil?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m so tired.”

“Me too.”

So they kicked the parts of their bedframe to the side and flopped the mattress down on the floor. A blanket was found somewhere, but no sheets. That didn’t matter. They snuggled up close together and slept, wrapped up in the blanket.

Their apartment might have been imperfect, but it was home.

It was their home.

 

 


End file.
